


Crystal Caves and Diamond Days

by Woman_of_the_Book



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Arthur Finds Out, Arthur finally decides to be observant, Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Magic Reveal, Oneshot, Open Ending, Rewrite of 5x13, ambiguous ending, arthur lives, if you guys want, open to adding another chapter though, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woman_of_the_Book/pseuds/Woman_of_the_Book
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Arthur didn't hesitate to kill Mordred? How would destiny unfold then? With Arthur now living and no more threats of Mordred or the prophecy killing him off... how would Merlin reveal his magic now? Or would he even reveal his magic in the first place... </p><p>Dedicated to my sister who had requested for a fic where Arthur didn't have to die by Mordred's hands... or at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one, believe it or not, is actually for my sister! *le gasp* Unbelievable - and of course, the one valid and motivation enough for a reason to bring me back to writing, though admittedly, it’s still going to be slow updates as I’ll only be writing during school breaks if at all I do write  
> Anyway  
> So, as my sister had requested, she wanted to see for once at least Mordred being killed by Arthur’s hands from the final episode, and maybe just leaving it there so that Arthur can live and all (of course!) and obviously, a magic reveal as well :)  
> So this one’s for you, Akka!!! :D

People were dying all around him, both his own and Morgana’s men alike. And yet for all that the Knights of Camelot were giving their best, more men dressed in the black garbs of their own uniform kept pouring in, leaving Arthur weary as he fought - his tiredness never showing in his fighting though - wondering when this war would ever end. 

As Arthur ducked a sword coming from behind him, neatly cutting his own sword into the mercenary’s chest as he turned around while still ducked under, a loud screech erupted from the skies, and as the man’s dead body keeled over, Arthur looked up just in time to see the long white form of a crippled dragon fly ahead before it turned his head to the grounds below and opened its mouth to let out a jet of fire. Ducking again to avoid getting burnt, Arthur’s eyes roamed the field before his glance fell on Morgana, his heart panging as he took in the cruel sight of his sister’s face eagerly drinking in the sight of all this destruction. It seemed so long ago when he could still remember her sneaking bread past Uther’s guards to give to the poor when Camelot had been struck with the famine of his own bringing. 

The roar of another mercenary approaching was his only warning, and he tore his eyes off the woman he once adored to throw himself back into the mindless actions of fighting and killing enemy after enemy, man after man, life after yet another needlessly dying life.

Fighting, dodging swords and the fire hurtling from the dragon’s snout from above, and frantically looking around whenever he could for his knights to see who was still standing, and who had fallen, all had slowly started to take its toll, and just as his muscles were starting to scream for him to stop after protesting for this long, he felt someone’s sword coming down on him from behind, knowing that even as he turned that it would be too late, that this was when he would finally fall - when a burst of white light erupted, brightening the entire darkened valley, and the group of men that had been fast approaching Arthur were thrown backwards. Confused, Arthur turned around just in time to see the burst of white light again, and another group of men flew backwards, unmoving once they hit the ground with a solid thump. Looking up, Arthur found himself looking into the eyes of a wizened old man holding a staff, his red robes old and clearly covered in dust. It was the same man who had once saved Gwen’s life knowingly or unknowingly, and had taken the life of Arthur’s father instead later on. 

And here he was now, saving Arthur and for some reason, the King felt lightened, as if the presence of this very man meant victory itself for Camelot. 

Dragoon, as the man had introduced himself.

Arthur went back into fighting yet again, briefly hearing his sister screech a name he had heard few times before and still meant nothing to him -

“ _ Emrys!”  _ Light erupted again, and out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw his sister fly backwards, similar to all those other mercenaries, before hitting the stone wall behind her and then slumping - hopefully unconscious if not dead - to the ground, hidden behind a large rock.

Everyone else’s attention was broken -  _ again  _  - as following a screech, the roar of the sorcerer’s words made everyone pause and look up, Dragoon’s voice heard even above the dragon’s screeching. 

“ _ Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! Weas! _ ” The white dragon screeched again, and for a moment it looked a lot to Arthur as if the dragon was forced to bow its head down before flying away, and for a few seconds nothing was heard. 

Arthur turned back to his knights, raising his sword with renewed vigour. 

“For the love of Camelot!” 

Camelot’s knights cheered, going back into their fighting with their spirits much higher than before.

After that, aided along with the help of the strange, old sorcerer, the rest of the fight blurred in Arthur’s mind until the last of the mercenary standing around him fell to the ground, and yanking his sword out from the corpse, Arthur regarded the land around him. A quick glance to the cliff above showed the man to be missing, and briefly Arthur wondered of the sorcerer’s whereabouts even as he registered his still missing sister, before he finally allowed himself to walk around. He had only taken a few steps before he fell in front of one of his own knights, the man’s raised arm which had captured Arthur’s attention falling, the life just having left the man, and he took a deep breath, staring morosely ahead.

Rocks crunched behind him with the sounds of footsteps slowly approaching, and from the reflection of one fallen man’s armor, he saw one last man dressed in black garb approaching him, his sword unsheathed and raised high - 

Without even consciously thinking of his actions, he had quickly twirled around, once again on his feet as Arthur parried the sword coming from above his head, and pushing it away, he lunged his sword forward, getting the man’s torso with his sword just slipping through from under the man’s breastplate. It was only then did Arthur meet the man’s eyes, and his heart froze as he distantly heard the sword of the man in front of him clatter to the ground. He had killed this man in less than five seconds, and yet in none of those five seconds had he stopped to properly look at the man before him.

“Mordred?” He stared. Mordred started to fall, but Arthur let his own sword fall to the ground so he could lunge forward and catch the druid in his arms before the boy - and really, he was no more than a mere  _ boy  _ \- could fall to the ground.

“You… gave me… no choice,” Mordred whispered, slowly going limp in Arthur’s hands.

“If there was one thing I learned,” Arthur whispered, long after he felt Mordred’s life leave him. “It is that we always have a choice,” he slowly lowered Mordred to the ground, before falling backwards from his crouch, his hand touching his sword and he brought it close to him, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them, his sword held loosely but firmly in his grasp as he finally let himself take deep breaths after what seemed to be ages.

* * *

Transforming himself from his aged form back to being youthful had never felt like it took as long as it did now, and with every passing second Merlin felt himself growing more and more agitated when he still couldn’t see Arthur, even when he was at last walking through the hills of Camlann. He was looking at each face that belonged to a man dressed in red, his heart stopping as he lifted the people’s faces and only resuming its erratic pace when he saw yet another man not to be his king, before quickly moving on to the next man he saw with blonde hair. Eventually, after what must have been only mere minutes but to Merlin felt to be years, he came across a man lying on his back, his blue eyes looking to the sky but unseeing, and Merlin felt his stomach drop when he recognized the man on the ground, but even more worryingly, the man sitting at the corpse’s feet.

He rushed forward, dropping the staff he had been holding on to and landed roughly on his knees, but ignored the pain of the rocks digging into his knees as he fearfully reached out a hand.

“Arthur-” He suddenly pushed himself backwards as Arthur lifted his sword up at the sound of his name, but when Arthur saw it to only be Merlin, his eyes softened, and immediately his sword’s tip fell to the ground again, and well away from Merlin’s neck.

“Merlin,” he sighs, letting his head fall back. He lets out a dry, humorless chuckle, but Merlin knows, that despite being relieved to see the manservant the king can’t truly bring himself to laugh, not when so many have died…

“How are you feeling?” Merlin finally says, his eyes assessing Arthur and trying to figure out if the man in front of him is injured, and really, right now that is his main concern. Mordred may be long gone, but many can leave affects in various ways even beyond their death. 

Arthur tilts his head forward, looking at Merlin silently for a moment before sighing again and slowly getting to his feet, Merlin following his actions as he picked up the fallen staff. 

“I’m fine,” Arthur shook his head. “Where’ve you been?” Arthur looked at Merlin again, this time his gaze steady and not straying anywhere. Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes and go over to make sure his king was fine for himself.

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin replied. “We should get you back to Gaius-” Arthur cut him off.

“I did say I’m fine,” Arthur said dryly but he was already moving closer to Merlin, looking down at Mordred’s body with a grim look. 

“-And Gwen,” Merlin finished, his tone just as dry now as he looked at Arthur, desperate to take away the man’s attention from the druid. “Come on Arthur, everyone’s looking for you,” he said, this time his voice soft, and that managed to tear away Arthur’s gaze from the corpse, making the king look back to his servant, and he nodded. Together, they set towards the tent where Gaius and Gwen had set their makeshift infirmary.

It was silent between them for a moment as Arthur looked around morosely at all his fallen knights, his face growing more and more grim with each dead knight they passed, but then Arthur suddenly frowned as he turned to look at a knight at Merlin’s side before his eyes fell on Merlin.

“Where did you get that staff from?” he suddenly demanded, and Merlin pale, looking at the staff in his hand by his side. 

“This? Uh..” Merlin hesitated, trying to rapidly come up with an excuse, but before he could even speak, Arthur was already going on ahead of him.

“This is the same staff that old sorcerer up on that cliff had been holding! The one he used to blast many of the mercenaries away!” Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked at Merlin more sharply. Both of them had stopped a while ago itself, but now Arthur was standing directly in front of the warlock, his eyes narrowed and assessing.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice low.

“Where have you truly been all this time?” He asked.

Merlin stared.

It would be so easy to lie, Merlin thought. After all Mordred was dead, Morgana was gone, for all he knew Merlin had managed to defeat the one part of his destiny that always burdened his shoulders. But now, with one last prophecy to fulfill that he, Merlin, with all his heart wanted… how could he continue lying any further? Because from what Merlin could see, lie now and easily get past this situation, only to again be confronted with yet another situation where he could confess his magic, but again and again continue putting it off for another time, the next time as he would from now on be promising himself… 

When could Arthur ever bring back magic to all of Albion if Merlin didn’t reveal his magic to his king? And really, what better time to reveal it now when one prophecy had just been defied and with one step, another prophecy could finally be on it’s way to the making?

And besides, with each passing second where Merlin pondered the situation, Arthur’s face was easily growing more and more tense, stiff, and closed off as Merlin didn’t reply. 

Finally, Merlin opened his mouth to reply.

“I was at the Crystal Cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

* * *

“Where have you truly been all this time?” Arthur asked with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Any other time, had Arthur asked of Merlin’s whereabouts any other time, so long as he knew his manservant wasn’t currently injured or looking as if he was about to pass out like a girl, he wouldn’t pay too much heed to whatever answer Merlin would have given, too relieved that Merlin was safe in his presence again, as he should be. But now, with all these events that occurred, and having just killed a man that he’d have never thought he’d actually see again, and in such a state as well, his mind was working on overdrive - a complete opposite to how one would usually feel after a long exhausting battle.

Merlin had disappeared. In the length of time that he had been gone, he had not only heard the man’s voice in his mind when he was asleep, but he had also been helped by an aged sorcerer that always looked remarkably familiar, and was always present when Merlin was not. The sorcerer, whose very eyes and even eccentric personality at times as well reminded Arthur of someone he knew, had held a staff as he drove away the mercenaries and Morgana with his magic, before disappearing. And now Merlin was here again, his blue eyes staring at Arthur in concern and something else the King could not name as he held on to that very same staff.

And oh, how very easy it would be to just accept any answer Merlin would deign to give, if only he would even open his mouth and  _ speak  _ -

“I was at the Crystal Cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

Arthur reeled back in shock, as if he was struck. Of all the answers he had been expecting, this surely was not one.

Actually, strike that. He hadn’t even known what to expect, really. As it was, he could only open and close his mouth - and he was very aware how fish-like his behaviour was, and wouldn’t that have been a great opportunity for Merlin to surely grin and tease him about it if only he wasn’t looking as if he had just committed a great crime - before he could finally make his voice work again.

“What in all of humanity were you doing there? Trying to get yourself killed?” Arthur asked bewilderedly. “Honestly,  _ Mer _ lin, you could have just come with me for that!” And there it was again, that sting of betrayal when Merlin had first told Arthur that he couldn’t come…

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on Merlin again just as Merlin replied, his voice so low that Arthur almost had to hold his breath to be able to hear the dark haired man’s reply.

  
“Because I had to get my magic back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDOM - because I forgot to mention that earlier and oh, yeah this is for all the people who kindly requested me for another chapter *thinks back to all the fangirls/boys screaming their heads off at me while typing their reviews* yup.. Kindly indeed :)   
> Oh so i made a mistake in the previous chapter, instead of typing saxon i kept typing mercenaries when it was supposed to be saxons.. So .. yeah…  
> Also, a shoutout to my brilliant beta as always - Thank you tons and tons Mari!

_ “Because I had to get my magic back.” _

Arthur stared. 

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked, his tone faintly disbelieving even as he knew as his stomach churned at the thought, as he slowly started to put all the pieces together.

“I defeated the saxons. The dragon. I even threw back Morgana from the cliffs using magic,” his voice drifted off, and meanwhile Arthur felt himself growing pale.

“The person who defeated them was a sorcerer,” Arthur said, but his voice was hollow.

“It was me,” a tear fell from Merlin’s eye as he whispered his silent confession, and for some reason Arthur felt himself getting suddenly angry.

“This is stupid!” Arthur exclaimed, his voice rising as he gestured vaguely to Merlin. “Why would you say that?” He didn’t even bother to hide the pleading tone in his voice as he asked Merlin, silently begging the man to just stop, to leave it be so that they could walk on from here and pretend this never happened, that Merlin never tried to confess to something that no matter what, would never be erased from Arthur’s mind now.

Merlin suddenly stood straighter though, and with dread pooling in Arthur’s guts, he met Arthur’s eyes with a steady gaze as he spoke.

“I’m a…” he paused, his eyes closing for a brief moment before opening them again and looking back at Arthur. “I’m a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you,” his voice, loud and steady at the beginning, fell back to a whisper by the end.

Arthur took a step back, feeling empty, as if he was about to fall over any moment now.

“You. Are not a sorcerer. I would know,” he stated, his voice even. But they could both hear that even Arthur didn’t believe what he was saying.

Merlin shook his head, finally breaking his eye contact with Arthur as he looked off to the side, and Arthur felt as if despite only the three feet distance between them, he felt miles away from the man in front of him now.

Merlin looked back at Arthur.

“ _ Upastige… draca,”  _ a small fire had been alight near their feet, one of the many as an aftermath from the dragon’s destruction. But with Merlin’s words, a dragon formed from the flames’ sparks, rearing it’s head before flapping its wings heavily and, as if lifting itself from an unseen ground, flew up and started to fly away, but the moment the dragon was out of the reach of the flames tips from the fire, the dragon dissipated.

Arthur continued to stare silently at where the dragon had been, while Merlin stayed agonizingly silent.

It was Arthur who broke the silence first.

“Leave.”

But then Merlin suddenly shouted.

“Arthur!” 

The king looked up, ready to defend himself in necessary, from the  _ sorcerer, _ and to say anything necessary though to ensure that Merlin never would be able to return to Camelot alongside Arthur, and maybe even impart a heavy death threat even if Arthur still couldn’t find himself having Merlin killed - but only because the  _ sorcerer _ had saved Arthur’s life along with many others and for no other reason - but instead he looked up to see Merlin dashing to him, his eyes wide and and anxious, panicked and something else that veiled his face entirely that Arthur couldn’t bring himself to name but struck fear within the king.

It was only then did he notice that Merlin wasn’t looking at  _ him _ , or even running to him -

He was pushed away from where he was standing just as the familiar sound of metal hitting flesh sounded, and lifting himself from the ground he looked up to see Morgana standing bent over, the familiar pose of one who just hurled an object… standing several feet away with a maniacal grin as she stared at… 

Arthur turned his head to see what she was looking at - or rather  _ who. _

And there stood Merlin, his face deathly pale and crouched over into a bow, his hands clutching his torso from where a dagger’s hilt stuck out, the blade embedded in Merlin’s abdomen.

Morgana laughed. “Hello, Emrys,” she hissed his name with scorn, before she scoffed. “Look at you, not so tall and mighty now,” she smirked, and leaned back, taking a sauntering step closer to Merlin, completely ignoring at Arthur. “You may have won the battle, but you’ve lost the war,” she grinned, but it was so completely deranged, and so unlike a Morgana that Arthur knew could ever come up with, and it was then he realized, that he truly had lost his sister.

The next few seconds passed in a blur, much like how it happened when Arthur killed Mordred, his movements fast yet calculated and everything happening so fast that it barely registered in his mind until he finally stood over Morgana’s body, the life quickly leaving her as she slumped into Arthur’s arms while he yanked his sword out from her body.

“I… am a high priestess,” Morgana coughed weakly, the movement wracking her entire body as she widened her eyes in disbelief. “No mortal blade… can kill me,” she inhaled deeply, her breath wheezing, and then she was no more, her body still in Arthur’s arms.

Thunder roared above, as Arthur slowly lowered Morgana’s body to the ground - similar to how Mordred died. Too painfully similar.

Arthur stood up straight, and aware of the blue eyes drilling a hole in his side, he turned to walk away, when he heard the thump of a body falling to the ground, just as he took a step.

He hesitated.

* * *

 

“My lady!” Leon burst into the tent and both Gaius and Gwen jumped up in surprise from where they had been both leaning over their own patients to tend to, the latter putting a hand over her heart so as if to calm down the rapidly beating organ.

“The battle is won. The saxons are in full retreat. They’re making it for the hills. I’ve dispatched two hundred men to drive our advantage home.”

Gwen walked over to the knight, nodding as he spoke and waiting for the knight to finish before voicing the one thought that lay heavily in her mind.

“And Arthur?”

Leon paused, his eyes growing more weary and anxious as well. “We’ll keep looking.”

“Thank you,” Gwen said quietly after a moment, leaning against the table. Leon looked at her helplessly, as if wanting to comfort his in some way but not knowing what to say, but Gwen quickly reined herself again.

“Oh, I’ll need some fresh water!” she said, standing straight again. A knight standing close by nodded and left to get the water, and Leon, sensing a dismissal from his queen, turned to leave as well when a man carrying someone in his arms came in first.

Gwen almost yelled in relief. 

“Arthur!”

And then her eyes fell to the wheezing man in Arthur’s arms, and this time she actually did shout while her relief turned to concern.

“Merlin!”

* * *

“Is there anything you need Gaius? Any herbs or-” Gaius cut off Gwen’s anxious ramblings.

“Why don’t you go tend to the other knights,” he said, not unkindly as he paused in his movements of hastily cutting open Merlin’s tunic so as to be able to clean the wound better before he did anything else - such as pulling out the dagger sticking out from his ward’s abdomen. 

“We need to leave soon… We may have the basics but… I fear this dagger has struck Merlin’s lung, in which case the amount and variety of herbs I actually need would be back in my chambers in Camelot,” Gaius quietly confided in Gwen while pulling away the now tattered tunic from Merlin’s torso. The queen gasped, her hands to her mouth as her eyes shined with unshed tears at hearing her friend’s plight. 

“For now I can only hold this wound together and hope to staunch the bleeding,” Gaius said as he finally got the last droplets of blood cleared up, and braced himself to pull out the dagger.

“Actually, my lady…” he hesitated, unable to look up and meet Gwen’s gaze.

“Yes Gaius?” Gwen pressed, looking pale but her voice was steady, and that finally enabled the physician to look up. 

“I’m going to need you to hold him down while I take out the dagger,” he said shortly. Gwen paled, but she nodded and readied herself, pressing a kind hand against Merlin’s forehead before pressing one of her hand against his chest, well above the dagger, and the other against his legs.

Swallowing thickly, Gaius pulled out the dagger, and gasped as Merlin screamed and started to thrash, still unconscious. Gwen started to struggle. Leon, who had been standing well away and beside the quiet king who still didn’t look up despite all the noise, his gaze fixed resolutely on the ground, started forward to help Gwen hold Merlin steady.

“It’s poisoned,” Gaius stated, his voice cracking. Gwen’s head shot up, but Gaius was already putting away the dagger carefully by wrapping it up and placing it in his medicine satchel to make sure he didn’t lose it.

“What?” Gwen asked, aghast as she stared at Gaius even as she continued to hold down Merlin, the unconscious man’s movements now becoming more and more sluggish, before he stopped all movements and was lying still on the cot, the only movements being his unsteady and wheezing, each breath sounding thick with blood.

Gaius hastily got back to work again, working fast to staunch the blood and steadfastly ignoring the black poison oozing from the wound in Merlin’s abdomen and working itself into the warlock’s veins.

“We need to get back to Camelot sooner than I expected.”

 

* * *

“He’s a sorcerer.”

Gaius, who had been checking his medicine satchel a few feet behind his horse to make sure the dagger was still in his bag, paused. Leon, several feet away and thankfully out of earshot continued to rapidly order a few other knights to proceed readying their horses. For now, including the King and Queen, only a small group of knights were to make their way back to Camelot, to also ensure the protection of the royals while other knights who needed to be immediately looked after were also being brought in wagons, along with Merlin. Leon was to stay back, however, to look after all the other knights and anyone else who would be returning to Camelot at a slower pace.

“You knew,” Arthur said when Gaius resumed to stay silent and didn’t look up. He took a step back, feeling betrayed.

Gaius finally looked up to look at Arthur. “Arthur, he is your friend.”

Arthur looked away, his nostrils flaring.

“If his life weren’t in danger…” his voice lowered, and he gritted his teeth before continuing. “I want him gone. After he’s well.”

“Arthur,” Gaius looked at him disbelievingly. “There is no need to fear him!”

Arthur let out a dry, humourless laugh. “He has magic!” he retorted.

Gaius suddenly straightened his features, his demeanor cold.

“Well then you should be satisfied, my lord. I fear that even his magic would not be able to save him in time. Seems fitting, that with his duty fulfilled in keeping you alive, he can die now in return. And yet, he gets nothing in return for his friendship, not a kind word, not even a glance,” Gaius focused his piercing gaze on Arthur, his look so cold.

“So much for being the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth.”

Arthur looked back at Gaius, his throat feeling very dry as he asked incredulously. 

“Merlin?” he asked. But Gaius had already turned to walk away and mounted his horse, his back stiff and unwelcoming any further conversation.

* * *

It felt like slow process as they made their way to Camelot, Gaius too conscious of each step they took, aware of each second ticking by and wondering if they’d even be able to make it back to Camelot in time… 

But no, for Merlin, he would have hope. Hope in the inevitable. Because with the amount of harm that one dagger inflicted, only magic would be able to save Merlin now.

Only magic of the strong kind. The kind that could only be wielded by not even Gaius himself, but Merlin. Merlin, who was currently unconscious, and not even the torturous pain of having the poisoned dagger been wrenched out of him could awaken him, even if only for a few brief seconds.

  
In the distance, the turrets of Camelot’s castle came into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I decided to write another chapter, and i thought I could finish this off in a two shot but it’s taking a bit longer than I expected and I wanted you guys to rest assured that I am working on another chapter and trying to get it out… So till then.. enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDOM - still the same fic so still dedicated to the same sister! And of course, thank you thank you thank you so much my oh so wonderful beta - Mari!!

The poison would not come out. 

Gaius tried everything he could, from bloodletting, to even using magic - after chasing out Gwen under the pretense of needing more water, despite already having a couple of buckets filled to the brim - which he pushed under a table. He was not in the situation to be able to freely think of new situations currently after all, what with a rapidly fading Merlin on his cot, which Gaius feared would become his deathbed.

In the end, flipping rapidly through one of his spellbooks, he could only come up with one option. The one option that had been weighing heavily on his mind ever since they had left from Camlann to Camelot, and now after finding the spell, and with nothing else in mind, he could only think as to how to now bring back Merlin from the world of unconsciousness.

Thankfully, this sort of magic Gaius trusted he would be able to do.

Taking a vial from his shelf, he couldn’t suppress the small smile that embraced his lips when he remembered the last time he had to use this on Merlin, to which after awakening his ward exclaimed.

_ “What is  _ **_that_ ** _? Arthur’s socks?” _

And just like that, the smile disappeared. He turned around, and stopping in front of Merlin’s pale form on the cot, he took the cautionary glance around his chambers, empty except for one recently deceased knight on another table covered by a white sheet.

He took a deep breath, preparing to reach in for his rarely used magic as he clenched the vial tight in his hands.

“ _ Awacnian eac  _ _ úre cræft _ ,” Taking a deep breath, and praying to all the Gods and Goddesses he may have came across his books, he held it under Merlin’s nose, and just as he removed the vial’s stopper, he whispered again. “ _ Awacnian.” _

Nothing happened.

Gaius waited anxiously for a few seconds, the vial still under Merlin’s nose, but his ward did not even rouse.

The old man stepped back, his breath leaving him with gusto as his back hit a bench, and he slumped down on it.

A sniffle.

Gaius’ head shot up, and he stared as Merlin’s eyes flickered, before they slowly opened.

“Still using Arthur’s socks, Gaius?” It was so quiet, Merlin’s voice raspy, but that didn’t stop the large grin from appearing on the mentor’s face, as he leaned back with a sigh, before getting up and preparing himself for the next part.

“Oh, Merlin,” he sighed, shaking his head before he came closer to his ward.

“What’s wrong Gaius?’ Merlin asked, his face taking on a worried expression. Before Gaius could do or say anything, Merlin started to get up before stopping, inhaling sharply as his face went even more paler than before - if that was even possible - and leaning back down slowly. 

“Oh.”

Gaius put his hand firmly on Merlin’s shoulder, frowning.

“You’re dying,” he stated flatly. Not exactly how he planned to say it, but well. Time was running a bit on the short side, if he ever needed to explain himself. Which he didn’t.

“Yeah, I figured that part out myself, thanks,” Merlin groaned, blinking. “Could I get some water?”

Immediately, all pretenses of being stern faded away, and Gaius turned to the table where he hid the previous two buckets of water, and keeping one separately for drinking, he dunked a cup in it to fill it and brought it back to Merlin, helping his ward take a few sips before Merlin lay back down again.

“So…” Merlin winced, clearing his throat. 

“There’s a spell,” Gaius started. “And right now, it’s your only chance of living, so,” without further ado, he showed the book, opened to the spell he was talking about, to Merlin. But the warlock didn’t look at it. 

“Arthur knows, Gaius.” 

Gaius leaned back, settling the book more comfortably in his arms.

“Yes, he does,” Merlin looked at Gaius sharply then. 

“He doesn’t want me here, does he?” Merlin asked. Gaius paused, before answering, his voice firm, brooking no arguments.

“What he wants, does not matter to me right now Merlin. What does matter to me, is that you,” he pushed the book towards Merlin again. “Do anything necessary to live,” his tone softened. “I only have one son, Merlin, and he still has a great ways to go.”

Merlin’s eyes softened, and he stared at Gaius wordlessly, who just smiled kindly yet with a hint of melancholy at him, before nudging the book against Merlin again. This time, Merlin was ready to accept it from his mentor, and after helping Merlin sit somewhat upright and against pillows, Gaius readied the table closest to Merlin’s cot while the warlock started to study the spell.

When Gaius had finished his side of the preparations, he turned to look at his ward to find him looking at the table the physician had set by him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What is it, Merlin?” Gaius asked, catching Merlin’s attention again.

Merlin opened his mouth, looking as if he was about to say something before he visibly changed his mind with shake of his head, looking down to take one last look at the book on his lap before turning to the body on the table by him, lifting his hand towards the corpse.

“ _ Ic ábiddan onuppan sé fífmægen sylfum sé rícen æt afeormian mec fram þes bealubenn. Hálian mec fram sceaðignes, ond álætan þes bánfæt ágieldan sé manweorþ for mín hælþu!”  _ His eyes flashed gold, and he suddenly let out a pained gasp as his back arched, a golden light erupting from his abdomen. Gaius flung forward in panic, calling out the warlock’s name but only just holding himself back as he anxiously waited for the spell to first finish it’s work, looking on in great concern as Merlin’s back stiffened so hard it looked as if his very bones might snap -

And then with a final pained whimper, he fell back on the bed, unmoving and a deathly pale as the effort for casting the difficult spell took its toll on Merlin’s already weakened body. As Gaius finally allowed himself to rush forward to check his ward’s pulse, he noticed the rapid reddening in the center of the white sheet that had been covering the dead knight’s body on the table which he had moved to stand by the cot that Merlin lay upon.

What he failed to notice, was a head withdrawing from the barely opened door, which slowly and quietly closed shut soon after.

Days went by.

Merlin didn’t wake.

Until he did, a month later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awacnian eac úre cræft - awaken with your might
> 
> Ic ábiddan onuppan sé fífmægen sylfum sé rícen æt afeormian mec fram þes bealubenn. Hálian mec fram sceaðignes, ond álætan þes bánfæt ágieldan sé manweorþ for mín hælþu -  
> I call upon the powers of the goddess to cleanse me from this wound. Heal me from harm, and let this body pay the price for my health.  
> Yeah for those of you who haven’t checked my profile, I went on a hiatus. This chapter was already mostly written so I decided to post it. Epilogue to come soon, along with more notes.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg after so long, i finally can give y'all the end to this fic!

“In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name, Merlin.”

The children giggled, gathering in closer as if to better hear Kilgharrah’s next words, while the parents of the children’s stood a few steps behind warily, as if ready to grab their children and run away should the Great Dragon make any sudden moves. As if they could outrun the dragon anyway. And yet, it was the best of progress the people of Camelot could make, six months after the battle with Morgana and Arthur slowly working to repeal the ban on magic. While magic wasn’t officially legal as of yet, word quickly spread around that the king was willing to overlook people using magic to help around, starting with those injured in the battle. Of course, while Arthur was continuously pressurized by his council - which mainly consisted of Uther’s men - to avoid anything and everything to do with magic, it was with utmost tolerance that he ignored their words, unable to completely dismiss them, or otherwise being feared as enchanted.

But for the time being? Magic was still considered illegal - as illegal as it can get with a knight on patrol turning a blind eye to a healer working her magic on a young child not ten feet away. 

Currently, within the castle, it was another one of the council meetings that Arthur had found himself in again. 

“I am telling you, my lord! This is pure idiocracy-”

“Are you calling me an idiot, sir Thomas?” Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing. The man blanched, stuttering for a few seconds as he tried to regain his footing in the argument. 

“Of course not sire! But you must see the ridiculousness of this idea-”

Arthur interrupted once again, his face steely as he sat back in his throne, coolly regarding the elder man. 

“And now it seems to me you are implying my rulings ridiculous.”

The man shut his mouth closed with an audible clacking of his teeth.

When no more words seemed to be forthcoming, Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but someone else spoke first. 

“Your majesty, you have come to us with the idea of breaking a law most certainly deeply ingrained amongst the people of Camelot,” a tall man, Sir Richard, spoke. While he was still one of the men appointed by Uther, Arthur was more inclined to think that the man still had a mind of his own, instead of being one of the many other puppets being controlled by strings attached to a dead man. “And yet, at the same time, you do not wish to break it, but… to update its terms to something more lenient for a group of people we have been so far taught to see as the epitome of evil.”

If anything, Arthur’s gaze grew colder as he wondered if he thought wrongly of this man. 

But Sir Richard continued to speak, calmly and collected with his thoughts and speech, as opposed to the fumbling Sir Thomas. 

“But what I have been seeing in the streets of the lower town so far, and much like your knights, my lord, pretending  _ not to see _ , is many of Camelot’s people being saved for situations that we would have previously been preparing the funeral pyres or burial grounds for. We are seeing a new generation evolving without having to worry whether or not they will be able to overcome one of the coldest nights of many to come, we are seeing our parents living for many more months when before, we wondered if today will be the last day one gets to spend with their parents. I am seeing,” Sir Richard’s face suddenly softened, his voice the kind to be easily heard throughout the hall now lowering to an extent where the people in the room had to hold their breaths to be able to hear the man’s next words. “I am seeing my son regain the use of his legs, no longer having to worry of the sickness eating away at his limbs as it has disappeared without a trace. One would have never thought that just weeks ago, my child was bedridden, blankets pulled high and people refusing to see him, minus the physician, worried that the blackness overcoming his legs will spread to them,” Sir Richard’s voice rose again, and this time, he met each and every one of the people’s gaze in the room head on, his sight lingering on Sir Thomas and a few others particularly vocal with their strong dislike towards magic, before returning to Arthur. “This is because of magic! Are you telling me, evil has cured my son? Are you telling me, that it is this very evil that has now helped my son to continue his training on this very castle’s grounds, in hopes of becoming a knight of Camelot? Because if this is evil, then I fear, my lord, that I am one amongst it. I fear that I support the cause of those who use their magic, to help heal our people, to fight amongst our knights, I support the magic users with no ill intentions who wish to live in Camelot, and to be regarded as it's citizens.”

He nodded as he finished his speech, and thick, heavy silence, blanketed the room in the aftermath of Sir Richard’s words.

Arthur’s gaze wasn’t as cold anymore, and if anything, he smiled kindly at Sir Richard now. He mentally made a note to tell George to remind him of dropping by the training grounds later, to see for himself how the man’s son was doing.

Recollecting his thoughts, he readied himself to speak with Sir Geoffrey spoke this time. 

“All those in favor of keeping magic banned with the punishment of death?”

Sir Thomas’s hand went instantly up, along with a couple of other uptight men’s. Uther’s men, Arthur couldn’t help but note. 

“All those in favor in changing the laws regarding magic?”

Sir Richard’s hand, went predictably up, along with Sir Geoffrey. A tense second passed, and slowly, one by one, every other man in the room had raised his hand. 

Calming the quell of victory surging through his chest, Arthur stood, the other men soon scrambling to get out of their chairs as well. 

“The verdict is passed then. I will publicly announce the changes to be made on the laws tomorrow. The council is dismissed.”

And before anyone could try to have some final words with the King, Arthur turned around and made his way out of the chambers using the servant’s tunnel, George hot on his heels.

* * *

“You should talk to her,” Merlin murmured, looking outside the window he was leaning against.

“She betrayed us. She should be happy that I didn’t even report her to anyone apart from Percival, and that’s so he could keep an eye on her. I can’t even bear to look at her, Merlin,” besides him, Gwaine leaned against the opposite side of the window’s frame, but looking towards the warlock instead. 

“Eira didn’t deserve what happened to her. She struck out the only way she knew how, Gwaine. And besides, she’s making up for it now, isn't she?”

As if to prove the warlock’s point, Merlin watched as the blonde in question made her way across the courtyard, a basket of laundry resting against her hip, pausing in her steps to bow respectfully to the familiar figure of Sir Richard before going on her way. 

Merlin liked Sir Richard. The man had once stopped by Gaius’ chambers to consult the physician, and when he saw Merlin shakily sitting up from his cot, he neither expressed neither disdain or nonchalance, and even though Merlin was sure that the entirety of Camelot knew of him now, he still smiled  at the sight of Merlin’s familiar and kindly asked after his health. 

Gwaine’s voice brought Merlin back to the present. 

“Believe me, I know… maybe one day I will talk to her again, but for now…”

“You're still too hung up on her betrayal to forgive her for actions,” Merlin finished for him, his voice flat. Gained grimaced at the implications, immediately opening his mouth to apologize when he realized how true the statement stood for the warlock as well.

But Merlin waved it off before he began. 

“Don't mention it,” he said tiredly. He started to slowly push himself away from the windowsill, and Gwaine straightened, ready to step forward and help his friend. 

“I can do it by-” he winced, his hand going to his stomach as his knees buckled. The wound, for all intents and purposes, was gone, but inactivity for even a short period of time had caused Merlin’s muscles to cramp up. It may have slowly started to get better, but the warlock had his days. Today was definitely one of them, and that was all Merlin could think of before his face was rushing to meet the ground, his eyes closing as he braced for impact. 

And then strong arms caught up, holding Merlin upright against a firm body’s chest.

“Ok, so I couldn't do it by myself,” Merlin conceded, sighing, too embarrassed to open his eyes. 

“Yes, as we have already long established that, _ Mer _ lin, it's quite clear that you can barely manage anything on your own.”

The warlock’s eyes sprung open, and he pushed himself away from the figure holding him with a hiss of pain. Behind them, Gwaine looked at him, offering a sort of helpless shrug.

Mouth opening, he tried to answer, but meeting the all too familiar face of someone whom he thought he was actually forgetting, Merlin found he couldn't bring himself to reply. 

“And there you go, reverting to your original state of impersonating a fish,” Arthur mentioned, annoyance written clearly on his face. Merlin shut his mouth, and just stared. 

Arthur sighed. 

“Hurry up and get well, you idiot. George is driving me crazy,” Arthur muttered. From behind him, George himself suddenly turned a corner, pausing before his eyes landed on the king. He lit up, and made his way quickly over to the trio. 

“My lord!” George called out, and the sound of his voice, Arthur cursed, looking behind him to see George walking towards themselves as fast as he could without breaking out into a full on sprint.

“Speak of the devil.”

But Merlin didn't bother with even grinning, too hung up on Arthur's previous words. 

“Wait…” Arthur turned towards Merlin, an eyebrow raised in question. 

“Does this mean…”

“It means. You're still my servant. Taking up far too many sick days. But come tomorrow, you’ll find yourself another post instead,” Merlin’s heart dropped, but Arthur went on, not noticing the color bleeding out of Merlin’s face. “Should you wish to accept it, you’ll fine yourself dealing with the role of… well. Dealing with all the sorcerers and sorceress out there; training them, helping them, doling out a suitable punishment should they harm anyone. We’re still trying to figure out an official term, but I’m sure Gaius will come up with something that isn’t too pansy,” Arthur finished. By then, George had caught up with Arthur, slightly out of breath. He looked like he was about to say something, before he caught sight of Merlin. At first, the man looked annoyed, but then he suddenly raised his eyebrows.

“Are you alright?” 

In synchronization, Merlin found himself being the sole attention of Gwaine, Arthur, and George. It was then he realized that he had gone deathly silent - he didn’t think he was even breathing at that moment. 

At Gwaine and Arthur’s concerned gazes though, he finally managed to push out a word. 

“Oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm done. Please check my bio (on FF) for information on my latest disappearance, but i’ll let y’all know that I might be posting stuff now… not necessarily Merlin, though I am gonna wrap up a couple of loose ends.. but ive been having a supernatural fic in mind that's been wanting to get out, to be honest :)  
> R&R?


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